Waiting
by FireThatFox
Summary: smut [Mada/Saka]


The only sound in the room was the subtle click of the clock, third hand counting down each second as it passed, each second she was making him wait.

A sigh, like so many he had made that night escaped the narrow confines of his lips. He was agitated. The slight drumming of his fingers on his expensive oak desk accompanied the ticking of the clock...where the hell was she?

Slowly, he rose from his leather chair, expensive and smooth, cold and hard like his desk, to fill his tumbler once again with the amber liquid he tended to favor before meeting her. Again, the crystal came too his narrowed lips, again the burn , barely felt as the amber liquid slid down his already heated throat.

A knock.

He made his way to his chair, sitting and smoothing down the fabric of his suit before bidding her enter, his heart racing in anticipation.

"Enter." His voice strong, deep...commanding.

A leg, slim, bare, entered then her arm, a hand, dainty but strong pushed open the door. Her skirt, black and form fitting was the first thing he noticed, it hugged her perfect hips, her waist, so trim, so sexy. He swallowed as their eyes met.

Green, such a brilliant green.

"Sakura, you're late." His voice, almost bored gave away nothing he was feeling, his heart pounding forcefully in his chest, his hands sweaty.

"Madara." She inclined her head gracefully to him, her beautiful pale pink hair falling over one of those glowing green eyes. One finger, pushed the heavy lock back and away from her face.

"I assume that you have what I want?" He asked her, voice just as deep, just as commanding, a shiver, slight runs over her skin, he notices.

A hardness builds, down, below the desk. He grips the fabric of his pants, wiping the sweat from his palms as he places his now dry hands on his desk as though in leisure.

"I always have what you want...Madara." She almost purrs his name, the syllables of his name rolling off of her tongue like the darkest desires of his mind.

"Indeed." Is all he can get out without his voice clenching, without revealing his lust for her, control, he must maintain control.

Sakura moves with the subtle grace of a wild cat, each step flowing like silk, his eyes flashing from one point of her figure to the next as she slowly, teasingly lowers herself onto one of two chairs in front of him.

A folder is placed on the desk before him, she leans in, the top of her blouse parting just enough for him to see the tops of her breasts, firm soft mounds tempt him, his mouth waters.

A flick of her finger opens the folder for his viewing, a smirk on her blood red lips tells him she noticed...him noticing.

"You'll find everything is in order...Madara. After all, I am the best am I not?" Her eyes, are they greener than the last time they met? He wonders as he looks over the file in front of him.

"If you weren't, I would have no need for your...services." Madara closes the folder and watches her face. A twitch, a smile.

"Indeed." She uses his own word, he wonders if the reason is the same as his.

"This Friday, the...package?" He asks, his fingers tracing the lip of his crystal tumbler in indecent insinuation.

Her eyes follow his fingers, heat pools in her abdomen, her tongue, quick and nimble, pokes out of her sweet mouth, a lick, a tease.

Inwardly he groans, outwardly he smirks.

"Something wrong dear?" He eyes her darkly, waiting, wanting her to say...something.

"It has been scheduled Madara, your packages, as always...are safe with me." She rises, a flick of her hair over her shoulder, bending over his desk slightly, her hand brushes his, intentional, boldly, the V of her blouse once again reveals...too much.

Madara gripps her hand in his, their eyes meet.

"Enough. I have waited enough." He pulled her over his desk, flips her, lifts her skirt, unzipped his pants and fingers her heat.

Wet so wet.

"Madara." She gasps, her voice shakes, no longer controlled, no longer teasing, but pleading for him.

"Sakura." He groans as he enters her, hard and swift, she throws her hands out to brace herself against his thrusts, her fingers gripping the edges of his desk.

His hands slide under her perfect ass and lift her up, her legs pull and move against him as he thrusts into her, the slapping of skin, the pounding of his heart replacing the tick of the clock long forgotten.

A gasp, a growl, his seed explodes into her womb, he slips on the sweat of his forearm, falling on top of her.

A grunt, a giggle.

He stands, pushes against her one last time, pulls his member from her sex and zips his pants up again, adjusting himself only slightly.

Small hands smooth down the front of her skirt, a napkin pulled from her purse, she cleans herself dropping it into the trash on her way out.

"Until next time." She smiles and leaves his office.

"Indeed." He grins wolfishly after her, taking his tumbler in his hand once more, downing the contents before leaning back into his chair, sated.


End file.
